


On the Prowl

by JessieBlackwood



Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 15:22:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessieBlackwood/pseuds/JessieBlackwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So because I haven't seen anything slashy involving these two, and because I can, and because I just love the thought of what someone like Riddell would do with Jack, here we go with a short drabble concerning their first meeting. I haven't gone as far as the bedroom with this one, I'd like to know whether anyone wants to read more first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Prowl

**Author's Note:**

> There may be more. Let me know what you think. Would you like more? Gimme feedback, people.

“Well, He-llo, Captain Jack Harkness, and who are you?”

“Jack, stop that.”

“What? I’m only saying hello.”

“The name’s John Riddell, sir. Good to meet you. Any friend of the doctor’s is a friend of mine.”

“I like the way you think. So tell me...John. What do you do?”

“I’m a big game hunter on the African plains. When I’m not gallivanting about with this chappy here. How about you? You’re a military man? What regiment?”

“No regiment exactly...”

“Sea Captain then?”

“Not exactly...” At this point a look of confusion passes across John Riddell’s face.

“Oh, ignore him, John,” the Doctor urges. “He used to fly...planes, up there,” he gestures skywards with a twirl of one wrist. “It’s a bit before your time...”

“I was with the Royal Air Force.”

“Damn me, we get one of those, do we? Am I to gather Wilbur and Orville managed it then? Hairbrained scheme but...well, this thing flies, doesn’t she?” He gives the TARDIS a proprietary pat that--for some reason--has Jack feeling jealous. “Well, from little acorns, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes, little acorns indeed,” the Doctor enthuses. “You humans, you’re so inventive. You’re brilliant!”

“So, having cleared that up, what say we find somewhere more comfortable...?” Jack slides an arm daringly behind Riddell’s back, warm palm flat on his spine above the waistband of his breeches. The buckle of his waistcoat is hard against his fingers.

“Jack...” The Doctor’s tone is clearly exasperated.

“What?” Jack glares at him, clearly starting to get irritated.

“It's quite alright, Doctor,” Riddell says reassuringly. “I think I can look after myself.”

“You have no idea what he’s like,” the Doctor warns him.

“Oh, I think I do. The Captain here is quite obviously a hunter like myself. I can appreciate his talents in that regard.” Riddell’s eyes have grown dark, pupils dilating. “I think he’s in need of some action, needs to feel the adrenalin rushing through his veins, don’t you, sir?”

Jack’s mouth has now gone dry, anticipation coiling in his gut. He cannot believe that this...proper _Edwardian_ gentleman with the posh accent and the aristocratic demeanour and the short grey hair--hair that he is so desperate to run his fingers through it hurts--is so obviously flirting with him. Jack nods, speechless for once in his life.

The Doctor glances between the two men and can see how their evening is going to be spent. He is better well away, as far away as possible under the circumstances. “On your head be it then,” he says and disappears into the bowels of the craft, down one of the long corridors, in search of...something.

Jack lifts his hand and then pauses. He is still surprised when Riddell reaches out and takes the fingers in his own, lifts the hand to his lips and drops a kiss to the knuckles as dashingly as if Jack were a lady he was meeting for the first time. “Feels like you need a man of action and excitement, one with a very large weapon!” Riddell growls at him.

For once in his long life, Jack is not the one on top of this conversation, nor is he the one in charge. His glib words fail him and he can do nothing else but nod in mute agreement as a shiver travels down his spine. “Good. Because I’m in need of some relief after our taxing adventures,” Riddell states with a warm smile. It lights up his face and there is a hint of devilry in his dark brown eyes. “Time to put your money where your mouth is, my friend, and show me what you’re made of. Come on, _Captain._ ” He leads the way to his room. 


End file.
